What One Loses
by silver-kin
Summary: In a battle, one side wins whilst the other side loses. In a battle, something is always lost, and for the Nobodies, the losses are even more so.
1. I Think Not

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

**What One Loses **

**Chapter One : I Think Not**

For as long as he can remember, he has considered life a gamble. Everything has its benefits and disadvantages; there are chances and risks to be taken everywhere. A person cannot go through life without having at least once thrown himself into danger because every decision made has its consequences. No matter what, something _will_ happen.

It is simply a matter of knowing the rules.

So when he makes the decision to do as ordered, when he appears in between the Keyblade master and his companions, he has already realized the two possible outcomes of the battle that is about to take place. He knows what might happen in the end; one will benefit him whilst the other might not.

Either way, it's a gamble, but if there is anything he truly knows about himself it is that he is a gambler through and through.

When he gets rid of the boy's friends, he is doing two things. One is removing the extra enemies and reducing the numbers to allow a one on one battle. He is bringing down the handicaps to make for a fair battle. The second, however, is putting himself, perhaps, at the risk of the Keyblade's wrath. A glance towards the face in front of him confirms it. Determination has replaced whatever hesitation that might have been there before and there is no room left to spare for mercy.

When he releases the spell, turning his opponent into a dice, he is giving himself the advantage. In that form, attacks cannot be carried out, so his enemy is therefore utterly vulnerable. However, there is a limit as to how long the spell will hold before its effects wear off. Once the limit has been reached, the odds will be even again.

When he forms cards in the air and sends them toward the now human once more boy, he is going on the offence while at the same time, keeping the risks of getting hit fairly low. The cards should hold the Keyblade wielder's attention for, at the very least, a little while. The flaw there, though, is that the cards can be flipped easily; his opponent need only push the cards aside and come straight for him.

When he offers a little challenge, he is putting himself completely in the hands of fate. If the boy wins the game, his position will be worsened slightly, if not greatly, and the delicate balance that is the fight taking place between them at the moment will be destroyed. If he chooses to not accept the challenge, the risks will be left untouched, unaltered, and the time spell's convenient side effects will take place; his enemy will be attacked, but only if he is standing directly in the spell's range.

It's interesting, the way the Keyblade wielder is fighting; he has adapted so easily to the game that watching him respond to the little contest laid in between the two of them seems almost natural. It's like he is fighting against someone close to being on par with him, someone who understands that a fight doesn't always have to be about all-out violence, nor did it have to be completely up to skill.

Sometimes, all that is needed for a battle is intelligence, the want for victory, and understanding what's important.

**"Do you know the rules?"**

When he casts a spell on himself, combining his presence with the properties of a card at the same time, it is another bet. By manipulating time in such a manner, he is giving his enemy a lot of room to attack. Now it is _he_ who is vulnerable, open to any form of damage whenever the boy makes the right choice.

When he throws a hand of cards forwards onto the floor, scattering them as they multiplied and their size increased, he is giving himself the full opportunity to attack. Now, he is free to unleash a chain of combos and the Keyblade wielder will have no chance to counter. His opponent will only evade, because there is no other move to make.

When he calls the Other of his former ally over, he is increasing all the dangers involved. The cards that surround the both of them act as a cage, preventing any move other than answering his challenge. If he wins, the game will be tilted greatly in his favor. If his enemy wins, one more blow will end it all. Either way, the battle will be decided.

At this moment, as the Keyblade wielder struggles with the cards at hand, he feels a surge of tight energy under his skin. The stakes have been raised higher than before and it is the final moment. The highest point of uncertainty has been reached and now it is all up to fate. The thought fills his entire empty self with a rush of anticipation, of an excitement that would only be barely contained if he weren't a Nobody.

_That_ is the feeling he has always treasured most, since before his heart was lost in an unexpected and unwilling gamble.

Suddenly, the brown-haired boy gives him a confident grin, cocky and arrogant. The cards fly into his free hand in one fluid movement, almost like it has always belonged there, in that palm. Almost like the boy has know his game all along.

He is pushed back and instantly he knows what the outcome of the battle will be. His end has been decided for him and the person to seal his fate is already closing in for the finishing blow. The Keyblade is swung hard and it cuts through the miserable excuse for a shield easily; it slices the cards like it was made of nothing but empty air. He falls to the ground, accepting his fate, because he knows that his opponent knows what matters most in a battle, in life.

It is _simply_ a matter of knowing the rules.

And just like that, he has lost a gamble.

**End of 1st chapter**

This is something I thought of during my exams and I don't know if it worked or not, but here it is. Your thoughts will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading this!


	2. Come On

You know, (or don't) I just realized how funny the title for chapter one really is.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

**What One Loses**

**Chapter Two : Come On**

As he stands in front of the three, their weapons drawn and their stances ready, he is already thinking, 'there's no way I'm going to win this.'

Even so, he still summons his element, still pulls out his instrument from the unsteady bubbles that have formed above him. He swings it around surely, a gesture of confidence, supposedly, before letting the sitar land into his palm. One quick glance towards his opponents and he decides, if there really _is_ any chance of him surviving the battle, he certainly doesn't see any.

To initiate the battle, he plucks one of the long solid strings; the twang sound it makes fills the air and immediately, he knows what should come next. More notes follow the first and suddenly, everything falls into place, beat after beat.

Water clones emerge from the vapor present in the air and he supports the shapes by continuing to play. The Keyblade master and his friends move about their battlefield, tearing apart one clone after another and, when the last drop of water evaporates into the air, they head straight from him. Taken by surprise, he accidentally lets slip an "uh-oh" before reminding himself to watch his mouth. He plays a few more notes, a quick preparation, and braces himself.

When the blows land, he is ready. After a few strikes, he evades the next by pushing his way past his opponents, triggering a rush of water through the air. Once his feet are back on the ground, he calls a few pillars of water around him, just in case. He pauses for a while, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly as he listened.

And just like that, he finds the rhythm again. Desperately, he grasps it with both hands and repeats his previous action, leading the Keyblade master and his animal companions in a roundabout circle whilst keeping track of the soft, steady beat at the back of his mind.

Keep the pace, he tells himself. _Maintain it_.

The boy strikes back and a spell just barely misses his foot, grazing the sides of his boot and darkening the spot of tile it had landed on, cracking the marble. He reminds himself not to panic, to keep up the steady rhythm with his fingers. When they charge forward again, he forces them back with a rush of water, pushing them further and further away. Then, he himself jumps forward, attacking with more pillars; they move out of the way in time, but that hardly matters; it's his pace now.

He plays with the water some more, toying with them now more than he has ever done before. At one point, he moves forward with an invitation, proposing a quick match of fingers and reflexes. He keeps up the flow, moving around on whim and letting his fingers make the decision as to what should be done next. Inside his mind, he thinks that, so long as the battle remains in his rhythm, he might stand a chance of making it. He might not, but he _just_ might.

Then, when all is going so well, he misses a step; a common but deadly mistake. As a result, the rhythm falls apart and he loses his counting. He barely has time to blink when the Keyblade wielder swings his weapon. A shield strikes his side and there is a quick rush of pain. He winces; the stupid metal thing the dog threw has probably just broken a few of his ribs. They finish and he grips the neck of his sitar with vaguely shaking fingers; it's now or never.

When he moves, the water responds readily to him. They rise up to one side, and then the other, before repeating the attack back from the first side, like a little dance. He moves fast, giving his enemies no time to properly counterattack as he consecutively strikes again and again. Once more, he finds the rhythm; again he follows the steady throbbing he's sure he feels in his chest.

"Come on," he says. "**Keep to the beat!"**

For a while, it works; the fight goes his way for moments more, him being at the advantage. He attacks, he evades. They defend, they get hit. _Beat, beat, __**beat.**_ It goes on in such a way that, for one brief moment, he almost lets himself think that he's winning. His movements pick up, the tempo of the beat increases, and the fight goes faster.

He's putting his all into it now. His fingers are aching from the pressure he's exerting onto the strings. Amazingly, he does not trip over his feet; this time around, they move with him with ease, cooperating obediently for once. Sweat trickles down the side of his face, his neck; his throat is demanding for rest. Ignoring the senses, he pushes the silent needs aside, repeating over and over again to keep up with the beat, though he thinks the words are more a plea to himself than a reminder for the other three.

Focus, stay focus. Keep counting.

Then, suddenly, the beat disappears from the ceiling of his mouth, his stomach sinks in a agonizingly empty way, and the hollow part of his chest, the place where his heart should be, tightens a million times over. Unnerved, he stumbles, and that is all the Keyblade master needs to finish him off. The Keyblade comes own one last time, merciless and unbearably painful. He flinches back violently from the shot of pain that races up is spine to every other part of his body, and, in losing his concentration, feels the instrument in hand vanish; it dissolves, leaving him empty-handed and alone.

Defeated, he sinks to his knees, announcing his loss. As darkness begins to lick his feet, rustling underneath his clothing, he can't help but shiver, knowing what happens next. When his very self begins to fade away into nothingness, he realizes that he's still counting. He's still searching for that beat he lost.

**End of 2nd chapter**

So, what do you think? Let me know, 'kay? If you have time, that is. Thanks very much for your time!


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